


the soft moon

by cosipotente



Category: Hemlock Grove
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-22
Updated: 2013-05-22
Packaged: 2017-12-12 15:13:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/812982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosipotente/pseuds/cosipotente
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With one nod, Peter had undone generations of work and as much as he wants too, he can’t undo anything now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the soft moon

**Author's Note:**

> Set in episode two after Roman mentions having the same dreams as Peter.

At some point during _Night of the Living Dead_ , Peter falls asleep sprawled out on the couch. But not before his thoughts shuffle sluggishly between Upir, dream sharing, and how the blanket covering his legs feels vaguely snake-like. He drifts into sleep with Roman's disappointed gaze at the forefront of his mind.  
  
  
  
  
Peter's sitting in Pisaro's class the next afternoon, lulled into a daze by the sound of her droning voice. There's a whisper of sound behind him, like snakes shifting, and then Roman is speaking gruffly in his ear.  
  
"Can I watch?"  
  
Peter turns his head the slightest bit to look over his shoulder and finds Roman staring at him, an intensity in his green eyes stating clearly what he wants to watch. Peter weighs the pros, of which there are none, and the cons, of which there are many, and yet his head manages to nod affirmatively.  
  
Roman flashes him a grin before leaning forward and giving Peter's ear a quick swipe with his tongue.   
  
They ride back to Peter's place together after school, Roman drumming his fingers to the radio and Peter staring at the trees as they fly by. He's doing his best not to freak out. With one nod, Peter had undone generations of work and as much as he wants too, he can't undo anything. Lynda is going to be pissed.   
  
Except she isn't home when he and Roman pull up, and that makes it a tiny bit easier to invite Roman in; it doesn't make it any less awkward though, especially when Peter nervously tugs on his ear and remembers the feel of Roman's tongue against it.  
  
It also doesn't help when Roman stares at him from his spot on the couch as Peter removes his rings and necklace. It's a look one might give to someone undressing, intimate, and completely weird in this situation. Peter looks away, staring up at the clock as it counts down the minutes, the seconds, until his transformation.  
  
Roman stands up suddenly and crosses the short distance between them, crowding Peter in with his height.  
  
"Does it hurt?" He asks, picking up Peter's hand—though he's referring to the change. He turns it over, palm up, and draws a circle there. Waiting.  
  
Peter finds his voice. "You wouldn't notice if a bus hit you." He's sarcastic, but it's the truth. Changing is the most physically painful thing Peter has ever experienced thus far in his short life.  
  
Roman snorts softly before bringing Peter's hand up to his lips, full and warm against his palm. Peter thinks, and not for the first time if he's being honest, about those lips on other places when Roman's tongue retraces the circles his fingers had drawn.   
  
Peter surprises himself by pushing his other hand into Roman's hair and tugging his head up. A look passes between them, heavy with words Peter doesn't know, can't even begin to speak. He kisses Roman, or Roman kisses him, either way, the words don't come out.  
  
Roman's hands push up and under Peter's shirt, tugging it over his head and throwing it to the floor. Peter reaches for Roman’s, but the taller boy is faster. Roman leans against him, heavy and hard, and his tongue finds Peter's ear again. Peter groans in the back of his throat and Roman chuckles hotly in his ear.  
  
They kiss again when Roman finally manages to remove his lips from Peter’s ear. Their hips grind together in steady, hard movements. Neither one of them make a sound. Roman's hand slipping into Peter's pants change that; Peter lets loose a low, pleasured growl.  
  
Roman bites Peter's neck as his hand makes its first sweep over Peter's dick. Blood falls from the spot in small, thin lines and Roman smears them with his tongue, drawing more circles.  
  
The change pulls at Peter suddenly and he pushes Roman off of him. Peter is out of the trailer in seconds, shedding his shoes and pants on the steps.  
  
Roman leans against the door frame, an unlit cigarette between his lips. He stares down at Peter and the look in his eyes edges on filthy. Despite the pain starting its crawl through Peter’s veins, his dick stiffens the slightest bit.  
  
"Darn," Roman drawls, lighting his cigarette. "I forgot to bring a frisbee." He winks mischievously and a hint of a forked tongue peeks out from behind his lips when he smiles.  
  
  
  
  
Peter wakes up on the couch, sweaty, troubled, and vaguely aroused. Night of the Living Dead is still playing on the TV, volume lowered. Lynda's gone from her spot in the recliner. Peter really hopes she was in bed before the dream began. He doesn't get the chance to ponder which one of them, Roman or himself, the dream had belonged to when he hears noises from outside. He rushes out the door, quick and quiet, but he isn't fast enough. There’s giggling from the distance and all Peter is left with is a werewolf mask on stick.  
  
He tosses the moon a sardonic look.  
  
  
When he sees Roman the next morning, Peter doesn't mention the dream. He subtly watches Roman for any indication that he shared the dream. Roman gives nothing away; if he had the dream, or shared it, he's doing a great job of keeping it hidden.  
  
The dream is forgotten as the day presses on, pushed to the back of Peter's mind by tedious classwork. It doesn't stay there for long though.  
  
Peter's sitting in Pisaro's class, lulled into a daze by the sound of her droning voice as she reads  _Wuthering Heights_ , when Roman tosses a note onto his desk.  
  
 _Can I watch?_  
  
Peter's vision blurs and the world seems to focus in on Roman's handwriting. He isn't reading the words though, Peter's hearing the words spoken into his ear, he's feeling the warm, wet press of a tongue against the lobe.  
  
He glances at Roman and the hooded look he wears, the tiny twist of his lips, answers if the dream had been shared or not. Peter means to tell him no, it would serve the spoiled little shit right, but his head nods yes.  
  
  
  
  
Roman witnessing his change doesn't play out like it had in the dream, and Peter doesn't try to figure out why that’s slightly disappointing, but when he comes through the door and Roman is sleeping on his couch, he feels happier.


End file.
